Behold Me
by silentlyatnight
Summary: Theo stares at the… monsters in front of him now, searching for any resemblance to the thestrals he knew from his childhood. Nothing. [For Tiggs]


**A/N This story was written as a gift to the wonderful Tiggs (whitetiger91), so which better character than Theo Nott? :)  
Thank you, Tiggs, for creating the amazing Golden Snitch forum and most of all, for being such a kind, generous, sweet soul.  
Sorry for the angst; I didn't mean to, but things got out of hand...**

 **Some lines are taken directly from Rowling's book as this is Theo's pov of Hagrid's class in the fifth book. But I don't own anything.**

 **Warnings: mention of character death**

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The smell of blood and death rose into the air, diverting his attention from his pleasant talk with Draco and Blaise. Barely aware that he had stopped dead in his tracks or that someone — Goyle? — had shouldered him to walk past him, Theo fixed his eyes on the carrion, somehow knowing exactly what to expect. Annoyance boiled within him at the clueless faces of his schoolmates; how could they not know? It was easily inferable: the more the ferruginous odor filled his nostrils, the more Theo could feel death getting close. The half-giant definitely didn't need to cry out for the creatures in that undignified way.

A feeling of trepidation ran through his veins.

Theo heard a quiet, almost timid, drumming of hooves followed by a rustle in the grass, and he found himself staring into a pair of white, shining eyes before their owner sank its teeth — fangs — into the bloody flesh with a fierceness one would not expect from such shy creatures.

 _Ew._

The scene was gross. The creature eyes had been lustful as they stared at the cow carcass. A second later, pieces of flesh were viciously stripped away from it and the blood was dripping out of the skeletal horse mouth, staining its face, and yet the creature buried its nose deeper into that horrid meal, not only unbothered by it, but enjoying it.

 _That was not even a creature. It was a monster._

Theo looked around at the wide, fearful eyes of his schoolmates who couldn't see, couldn't understand the scene in front of them.

Finally, a girl asked, "What's doing it? What's eating it?" her voice terrified as she hid behind a tree.

The other Gryffindors had taken a few steps back too.

Theo snorted. _And those would be the courageous ones?_

"Thestrals," was the half-breed's answer. And… was it pride in his voice?

The gruesome scene was still unraveling in front of them, pretty much the same as before: blood, flesh, bones flying anywhere as the thestrals fought for the last pieces of the carcass. There was nothing to be proud of, Theo thought, disappointed.

Despite knowing a lot about thestrals, he had never seen them until now, so all his knowledge was based on what his grandmother used to say: "Thestrals are sacred creatures; only the worthy may see them."

Thestrals had been mythical creatures back then. Winged messengers of the dead. Reserved and full of wisdom — admirable qualities.

Theo stared at the… monsters in front of him now, searching for any resemblance to the thestrals he knew from his childhood. Nothing.

His gaze hardened as he clenched his fists. His stomach twisted in distaste and anger, and he had to fight the urge to throw up at the thought he had been lied to for all his life.

 _As if seeing thestrals could ever make up for…_

The half-giant's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Who can tell me why some o' you can see them an' some can't?"

Theo didn't bother to answer; one look at the Gryffindors was enough to see that a girl was eager to show off. As always. Why deprive her of that?

"The only people who can see thestrals," Granger said, "are people who have seen death."

 _Damn right, Mudblood._

Finally, at long last, something similar to realization entered everyone's expression, and apparently, they all decided that if they couldn't see the thestrals, then the next best thing was stare at those who could. Theo was unfortunately included — why had he ever raised his hand? Now everyone knew he had seen death.

He quickly scanned all the pairs of eyes fixed on him: pity, curiosity, envy. Each feel he could detect just got him angrier and angrier.

How dare they envy him? Think that having seen his mum die was a privilege? Look at him as if he was some exotic beast?

It made his blood boil and he felt like he would explode. His chest ached, the pain spreading through his body, but he told himself that the only reason why his back and shoulders hurt was just because his muscles were so tense, not because his heart was breaking all over again. It didn't mean anything. He told himself he had stopped caring years ago.

He leaned against a tree, his posture forcefully casual, apparently enjoying his surroundings.

Buried memories resurfaced and gnawed at him, attacking him in the form of flashes of light to force him to look at them, the most painful one standing out and mocking him. It seemed to say, _Behold me. Behold the evil._

Theo's fingernails dug into his palms, lost. All he wanted was to go away, but he couldn't find a way. He was trapped.

 _How much longer was it going to last?_

It was the same thing his seven-year-old self had asked his grandmother, worried both for himself and his father who was suddenly too old to even stand on his own right after Theo's mother's death. That had been the first time Grandmother had spoken about thestrals, saying their sight was a gift. A merciful lie to a mourning child.

It had been foolish. _He_ had been so foolish.

Hoofbeats. A cool breath on his neck.

Death was coming.

Another flash hurt his eyes as another memory stood out.

 _The man had been taunting him, saying things about his mother's beautiful face, but now he was twitching, begging, his pupils dilated. "Please, don't do it. Please. Revenge won't give you your wife back. I'll_ —" _A green light glowed and the man_ _never got to finish his plea._

 _Theo's father hugged him close. "I'm here."_

Death would take them all.

Theo reached for his wand.

Slowly, he felt some warmth spread on his forearm, the pressure subtle and discreet at first, but it increased until it turned into a strong grip which Theo couldn't escape. Not that he would. He focused on it, considering it a life preserver, as his anger, hatred, and pain seemed to leave him.

Feeling like a survivor of some shipwreck, he turned and found himself staring into a pair of gray eyes, the boredom immediately replacing the concern in them.

Theo was more than comfortable with it and was quick to match his friend's expression, but not before allowing himself a brief but grateful smile — it only widened when he caught sight of Blaise's back, who stood a few steps away, effectively shielding him from more curious or judging glances.

After Theo twirled and sheathed his wand, Draco yanked his arm a little before releasing him with ill-hidden reluctance. "You know," he drawled, leaning forward, his breath warm, "this class may be better than we thought. After all, the half-breed never uses a word that we have to look up in the dictionary." Draco looked expectantly at Theo.

Theo grinned at the lame joke, appreciating the effort. It was easy, it was familiar, it was the _present_ , and Theo found himself basking in it.

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 **The Golden Snitch forum:**

 **-Ollivander's Wand Shop — Thestral tail hair: Write about a character seeing a Thestral**

 **-Ancient Romans — Caligula: prompt: [Creature] Thestral**

 **-White Day — extra prompt(s): white, lust**

 **-Through the Universe — prompt: (feeling) spaced-out**


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